A Shoulder to Cry On
by TheSecretPseudonym
Summary: With Kirk pursuing a relationship with Spock, McCoy feels he is losing his only friend. Spock is trying to avoid said relationship with Kirk, but seeks one with the doctor. New: McCoy learns he has a year to live. Spock rejects destiny. Hurt!McCoy Angst
1. Chapter 1

McCoy stalked down the halls even more grumpily than usual. His shoulders were hunched up as far as they could go and his long legs moved rapidly and gracefully as if he were trying to outdistance the spry, young, blonde man who was nevertheless keeping pace with him while talking animatedly and gesturing.

The captain did not seem to notice McCoy's stronger than usual irritation. He had been complaining about his first officer all through breakfast and had even considered the subject important enough that he had decided to accompany the ship's doctor to sickbay to continue it.

Despite McCoy's frequent Harrumphs however, Kirk's monologue did not subside. Instead, his voice just increased in volume and speed.

"I thought that after we defeated Nero, everything was cool between us," Kirk monologued. "We had risked our lives for each other, learned to respect each other. He even volunteered to be the ship's first officer while joking about character references with that smug Vulcan smirk on his face. I swear, Bones, for a Vulcan he was being sociable. He had even loosened up enough to hold hands with Uhura in the corridors. Then Shatoom," Kirk said dramatically with a violent hand gesture that almost knocked the PADD out of the hands of a passing ensign, "He went full out Vulcan. If I didn't know any better, I would say that he had gone through Kholinahr. Now he and Uhura seem to be on the outs, and," there was a pause and Kirk continued in a far more hushed and regretful tone as he tried to look into Bones' eyes, "He treats me like a stranger and won't allow me to engage him in "frivolous" conversation, much less spend any time off the bridge with me."

Bones too had noticed the change in Spock's behavior over the past two months of their acquaintance, but, unlike Kirk, he hadn't mined it that much. After all, Spock was a Vulcan, and Vulcans were not meant to express anywhere near as much emotions as Spock had been. This improvement in his control was probably a sign that Spock was starting to fully recover from the destruction of his home planet. It was a sign that his mind was again becoming stable. There were other reasons that McCoy was happy about this change in Spock. It was immature, but he had hoped that, with Spock gone all super-Vulcan, Kirk would start dropping by his quarters for a drink again. Ever since the Nero incident, Kirk's involvement in his duties and commitment to his nonexistent friendship with Spock had resulted in McCoy spending a lot of time alone. Unfortunately, according to the captain's reaction to Spock's changed behavior, his hopes were "illogical."

However, after hearing the hurt in Kirk's voice, the doctor in McCoy was awakened and, with caring, understanding eyes, Bones finally stopped walking and turned to face the younger man to offer what reassurance he could give.

"You are worrying about nothing, Jim." Kirk started to interrupt but McCoy silenced him with a look and continued talking. "Spock and you did share a bond when the two of you defeated Nero. Nothing has changed that. Trust me. Just because Spock is hiding those feelings does not mean that they are no longer there. Remember, he has lived through the destruction of his planet and the death of his mother. This may just be a delayed reaction to his grief. Let him cope in his own way, be patient, and for God's sakes stop whining to me with all of your relationship troubles. You are as bad as Chapel. If I wanted melodrama, I would get married again."

Kirk gave his friend a small smile of gratitude that began to grow bigger as a thought occurred to him. "You know what? I bet he likes chess! Maybe Spock'll play a few games with me after Alpha shift." With that, the Captain jaunted away with his usual confidence to the turbolift to go to the bridge and regain command.

McCoy watched him go with an odd mixture of grumpiness and devastated disappointment on his face as he muttered in his oh so characteristic way under his breath about the idiocy of Starfleet in placing so many damned hormonal and needy kids in charge of a starship. However, in a part of his mind which he was trying desperately to ignore, McCoy was contemplating another evening spent in his quarters listening to some old southern blues and folk with a bottle or two of bourbon as his only friends. He had known when he woke up this morning and remembered the date that today was going to be rough for him, but he had hoped that Jim's company might relieve some of his pain.

"Keep it together, man," he muttered bracingly to himself as he entered the wide, automatic doors of sick bay with his head bowed and his hands clasped tightly behind his back.

With his eyes downcast, he nearly ran into Nurse Chapel who was walking by with her vision obstructed by the twenty odd sickbay blankets that filled her arms. The nurse quickly apologized, and McCoy, with a voice only slightly more gruff and caustic than usual, inquired as to whether there was anything in need of his attention.

"Not in particular, doctor. No new patients have come in since last night. Mr. Chekov seems to be recovering from the Andorian measles he contracted at Starbase 23 very nicely."

McCoy grunted in satisfaction and began to head to his office where he was determined to bury himself and his thoughts by going through the latest medical research papers when he was stopped by Chapel's gentle hand on his back and a murmured "Doctor."

'Here it comes,' he thought as his perpetually tightened shoulder muscles relaxed by a fraction in what he was surprised to recognize as relief. Someone had realized what today was, what it meant to him. Someone had noticed his far-away, troubled expressions from over the past week. Someone had cared enough to notice his pain and actually wanted to help.

But Chapel's following sentence was not what he had hoped for.

"Although he is recovering nicely, Chekov could probably use another checkup… and a visitor," was the nurse's tentative statement.

McCoy's shoulders became tense again in an instant. He realized now that her compassionate tone was meant for the emotionally delicate, young Russian boy not for himself. Rather than being comforted, the doctor was being asked to comfort someone else, for, despite his gruff manner or perhaps because of it, he was exceedingly talented at bringing even the most desolated crewmember into a positive frame of mind. This talent was especially evident when dealing with the brilliant, young workaholics who were the ship's officers.

As he slouched towards Exam Room 4, he tried to shake off the disappointment he was feeling in his friends. After all, how were they to know what today meant to him? He had always made sure to keep his private life… well, private. He _had_ hoped that _Jim _would remember- they had spent three years together inseparably and there had been that night three years ago… but—no, it was better for him to deal with the matter in his own way. The people on this ship were already dealing with enough problems and strain. As CMO, he should be lessening their duress, not increasing it. Besides, what would these young, single kids fresh out of the academy know about being a parent? How could they understand the pain?

He had just pushed the last of these thoughts out of his mind when he pushed back the curtains surrounding Chekov's biobed. What he saw was, as predicted, adorable. The officer was curled up under the covers with only the top half of his face with its curly hair sticking out. From what little he could see of the face, McCoy could tell that Chapel had been right. The boy was in need of cheering up.

As he began scanning Chekov and taking readings with the whirring sound filling the silence, McCoy hunted for a way to begin a conversation. The beginning was always the most difficult part for the kind but reclusive doctor.

"Damn these no-good army doctors. They're all so gall darned busy earning promotions and being soldiers that they miss simple things like making sure that all crewmen are up on their vaccinations before shooting them out into space," he grumbled.

It wasn't the best opening ever, but it was good enough. Chekov turned to make eye contact with the doctor and asked sadly and assuredly, "Dey are all laughing at me, da?"

"What? Why in the hell would "they" be laughing at you?"

"The measles. I am sure dat dey are all saying, 'Of course it is Chekov who gets ze measles since he is zo young."

McCoy sighed in exasperation, but then he saw the expression on the kid's face and once again awoke his more sympathetic side to say gently, "It's not like your case of Andorian measles is any more entertaining than anyone else's illness, kid. However," McCoy got a mischievous look in his eyes, "you should have seen the captain when he caught the Andorian measles. That was priceless."

"The captain got them too?"

"He sure did, but, unlike you, he wasn't smart enough to report to sickbay immediately. By the time he came in for treatment, his skin had turned bright purple and his hair had begun to fall out. That cramped his style with the ladies for weeks." McCoy looked into the distance and smiled at the thought.

He was brought back from these happy reflections by Chekov's words of gratitude and then he headed into his office where he stayed for the rest of the shift. Thinking of how he should have been comforting his little girl back on earth instead of this ship full of infants. Thinking about how much he wanted to be there for her today on her birthday.

This was not the first time he had missed Joanna's birthday. Getting Jocelyn's permission was always difficult, but he had managed to always make it until three years ago during his first year at the academy. Although he had applied for leave three months in advance, Star Fleet had canceled it last minute due to a sudden outbreak of some Rigelian virus amongst the students. After a long day of vomiting cadets, he had returned to his and Jim's dorm room to discover that there had been four messages from Georgia throughout the day worriedly asking where he was and whether he was alright, and he was back just in time to receive the next call.

He had looked at Joanna's worried face and saw that she had been crying. The knowledge that he had frightened her and caused her pain still to this day tormented him to the point of drinking.

He tried to think of something to say, some way to explain why he had not been there, but his mind went blank when she said, "I thought you had gotten hurt."

"No, no, Joanna. I'm so sorry, honey. I was all packed to go, but my leave was cancelled when a whole bunch of the students here got sick."

"Oh. Will you be here tomorrow?" she asked hopefully.

"No, my leave was for today only, but I will try to get permission to see you as soon as possible. Did you get a lot of nice things for your birthday?" he said trying to change the subject, "How does it feel to be ten years old?"

"Okay, I guess," she said brightening up a little, "I got the awesome chemistry set you ordered for me. When you get here, we should do some of the experiments together."

"That sounds wonderful. Happy birthday, sweetheart."

They talked like this for a little while before Jocelyn finally cut him off.

In despair, he had gone to a shady bar that night and gotten royally pissed by even his standards. He dimly remembered getting into a fight and leaving the bar and he figured he must have gotten mugged because when Jim found him, he was lying in an alley not far from the bar crying, bleeding from a gash in his head, missing a tooth and his money, and muttering semi-incoherently about Joanna.

When he had woken up many hours later, an impatient Jim had interrogated him as to the reason for his sojourn into insanity. Using the threat of raising his voice to aggravate McCoy's considerable hangover as a means of getting him to talk. McCoy told him everything and was surprised to find that it had actually given him some of the relief he had sought for in alcohol.

Jim had helped him through that time, and, at that moment, McCoy had felt sure that he had finally met someone who would not leave him and would help him through all the other bad times that were sure to come. Although McCoy never talked of his family problems with Jim again, believing that Jim understood was enough to get through the rest of his time in Star Fleet between his visits with Joanna.

Yet now he was all alone. He was on a ship full of kids and his only friend now had his hands full with the responsibilities of being captain and spent the rest of his time struggling to accomplish his impossible goal of getting onto the good side of a Vulcan. He rarely saw Kirk since their duties caused them to be stationed on opposite ends of the ship. McCoy had attempted visiting the bridge on various pretenses and had seemed to be welcomed by the people there, but he still felt like an outsider. The bridge grew was a tight knit team and it was obvious that McCoy was not a part of it. Now, in his free time while on duty, McCoy just hid himself away in his office until he was needed.

Also, whenever he was on the bridge he seemed to get into a fight with Spock, and he couldn't deny to himself that this was probably due to his jealousy and anger at the Vulcan for not only stealing his best friend but not seeming to be interested in a friendship with said friend.

McCoy had to admit to himself that he always instigated the fights. But he believed that he would be able to control himself if that damned Vulcan just stopped talking to him. While he was now behaving coldly towards the captain, Spock would awkwardly attempt to start up a conversation with McCoy whenever they ran into each other. McCoy was of the opinion that Spock, in a sick way, enjoyed the arguments. Probably because he, for the most part, won them.

Today, however, after looking at his clock and realizing his shift had ended ten minutes ago, McCoy realized that he would prefer even the hobgoblin's company to nobody. With a heavy sigh, he slowly rose and headed to his empty quarters and his large stash of bourbon. He had already decided to attempt a repeat performance of actions during his daughter's birthday three years ago.

Please review. If I am to continue, I would like to know if it would be worthwhile to anyone other than me. I'm trying to improve as a writer. I welcome critiques and suggestions.


	2. Chapter 2

Alpha shift had just ended, and Spock walked, with a little more haste than usual, to the turbolift. Kirk had been trying to catch his eye and talk to him during the entire shift, and Spock hoped that if he could just reach the turbolift before Kirk was done signing the latest report that he could avoid the awkward situation that would inevitably follow if he was forced to come up with another reason why he could not 'hang out' with the captain.

Spock knew that his flight was illogical. He also knew that he was being quite rude in his continual refusals to the captain, but he could not stop himself. Whenever he was with the captain, he would experience the sensation of being trapped. Illogically, Spock would feel that he was being cornered by Kirk who so aggressively pursued a friendship with him. Kirk's unwanted overtures of friendship, his tendency to invade his personal space, the way he would stop what he was doing to listen to everything Spock said. It cost him many hours in his quarters every night to quiet the disturbance he felt.

Most disturbing of all was Kirk's eyes. His expression would sometimes take on a cocky confidence and possessiveness when he was around Spock, as if he and Spock were something more than mere colleagues.

Spock did not appreciate or understand this attention, although he was beginning to suspect that the version of himself from the alternate universe had told Kirk about their supposed 'friendship,' so whenever Kirk asked Spock to eat with him, join him in the rec room, or to spend time with him during off-duty hours, Spock respectfully declined and cited unfinished reports, the need for meditation, experiments waiting for him in the labs, and many more reasons as to why he was unable.

He never lied of course. If he told Kirk that he had paper work, he had paperwork, if he told Kirk he was planning on meditating, he meditated. The dilemma was that, two months into the mission, Spock's excuses were starting to become tired, and overused and he really was not in need of meditation nor had any paperwork to catch up on. It had been easier when he had been dating Nyota, but he was fairly certain that they had broken up permanently a couple of weeks ago.

After the… incident with Nero, Spock had been vulnerable and his grief had brought emotions to the surface that he had scarcely acknowledged before. Nyota had been there for him then, and, in return for her kindness, he had shown her some of his feelings. Ever since their kiss on the transporter pad, their physical interactions had increased and become more passionate as well.

Although she grieved for Spock's and her own losses, Nyota could not help rejoicing in their relationship finally moving on to the 'next level.' When Spock, a month after the accident, began to recover and regain control and become as unemotional as he once had been, it had been more than she could take. She could not understand that this was how he had to be. That his return to stoicism was normal for him and signaled recovery. She tried to bring him back to emotion, but it could not be done. Spock was a Vulcan. When she finally realized this and that their days of passionate kissing on transporter pads were over, she left him.

So Spock was vaguely dissatisfied when Kirk called for him to hold the door on the turbolift and was forced to wait for Kirk to join him, alone, in the enclosed space. He endeavored to resign himself to the conversation about to occur.

Spock waited as Kirk maintained a moment's silence in his usual human attempt to make the conversation seem less planned.

"So… Spock. Do you play chess?"

_Ah,_ thought Spock,_ today the Captain is merely attempting small talk. Perhaps, an excuse will not be necessary._

With what he had to admit was relief, Spock replied in the affirmative and that he was in fact a proficient player.

"Really? I am also."

Spock remained quiet as he had already assumed that to be true due to the Captain's interest in the game.

After a pause that would have become uncomfortable if Kirk had not immediately broken it, Kirk aid, "We should play each other sometime."

Spock gave a small nod and began to become uneasy. He was favoring the definition of 'sometime' as the uncertain, and hopefully distant, future when he would have a better excuse for dodging the captain's attempts at social interaction, but he was inclined to believe, due to the captain's past use of the word, that Kirk was in fact referring to the very near future. Perhaps today.

"Do you have any… paperwork to catch up on?"

Kirk's emphasis on the word 'paperwork' and the self-assured, cocky smile that he wore which always made Spock feel so trapped caused Spock to suspect that Kirk very well knew that Spock had finished all his paperwork during Alpha shift. In fact, Spock was willing to hypothesize that the report that Kirk had been reading before entering the turbolift had told him that Spock had already completed his work.

The turbolift seemed to grow smaller as Kirk moved slightly closer as he turned to face him while still wearing that same grin.

"No, Captain. I have completed all requisite paperwork."

Spock said 'Captain' with a slight, formal emphasis which caused Kirk's smile to falter for a moment until he recovered and replied, "Please, Spock, we're off duty. Call me Jim. Do you need to meditate?"

Spock was forced to reply in the negative. Vulcans did not lie.

Smiling triumphantly, "Well, if you have no other plans, why don't you come to my quarters and we can play a couple rounds of chess? I'll even let you be white."

With these final words, Kirk had slapped him on the back in his usual friendly gesture but, unlike usual, he had not removed his hand.

Spock became even more expressionless and began to panic as his mind raced. He did not like Kirk's hand on his back. It was a social taboo to have this sort of contact on Vulcan. Kirk should realize how inappropriate it was. It felt so restrictive and commanding.

Spock would not spend his off-duty hours with the captain. He just needed another reason. Something else that could occupy his time that evening. In desperation he finally came up with an excuse.

"I must apologize, Captain, but I am unable to play chess with you this evening. My plans for tonight are to visit with Dr. McCoy."

Kirk had appeared crestfallen from the moment the word 'apologize' began to fall from Spock's lips. He had barely listened to the rest of Spock's statement until he had heard McCoy's name.

"Bones? You have plans tonight with Bones?"

Spock was perplexed by the amazed, hurt, and betrayed expressions which passed across Kirk's face and emanated from his hand that still lay on his back, but he did not give the matter much thought since the turbolift had finally reached its destination.

"Excuse me, Captain" and Kirk dropped his hand as Spock darted around him and started to briskly walk down the corridor toward the galley.

After he had finished his meal, Spock got up and, releasing a lungful of air to stabilize himself, began to walk toward McCoy's quarters. Keeping his word.

McCoy had not been expecting him as he had led Kirk to infer from his statement, but Spock was telling the truth when he said that his plans were to visit the doctor. Those had been his plans from the moment he realized he needed an excuse.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Star Trek**_** is not of my creation. I forgot to do this earlier, but I hope it will still stop me from being sued.**

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McCoy pinched his nose, squeezed his eyes shut, and, with a violent jerk of his head backwards, he downed yet another shot of bourbon. He did not feel the usual burn that accompanied this action. All feeling had been lost three drinks ago.

Physical feeling that is. He still felt as if barbed wire had been wrapped around his very soul.

He looked again at the picture of his little girl which he had brought to the table. With trembling hands he brought it closer to read the scrawl that he knew was in the bottom left corner. His daughter's handwriting- reaffirming her love for him.

But he couldn't see it, couldn't read it. In another few seconds, he could no longer even see her smiling face. She had disappeared, but he knew it was once again it was his own fault. It was his own as of yet unshed tears which had obscured his vision.

He was startled by the buzzing at his door. Someone had come to check up on him! Jim must have remembered, must have noticed his depression. McCoy looked up and, with hope rising in his chest, pressed the button to allow Jim in. Oh, God how much he needed Jim. Needed his help right now. With Jim's support, he could face anything.

However, when the door finally opened and a man stepped in, it was not Jim but Spock.

Cold, calculating, unfeeling, infuriating, green-blooded, Spock.

McCoy could not think of anyone else he wanted to see less at this time.

The Vulcan seemed to be momentarily surprised at the darkness of the room and strong smell of alcohol and even more surprised when his eyes finally found McCoy hunched over a table with a picture frame in one hand and a bottle in another.

They both stared at each other for a few long moments. McCoy just stared at Spock with an uncomprehending expression as his inebriated brain tried to understand the situation. His eyes were scrunched up slightly in pain from the light from the corridor behind Spock. The Vulcan had not yet stepped far enough inside McCoy's quarters to allow the door to close. Spock, ever so subtly, shifted his weight from one foot to the other in discomfort.

As always, Spock recovered first. He cocked his head as if he could hear someone walking down the corridor then allowed McCoy's door to close by efficiently stepping completely into McCoy's quarters. By this time, Leonard's pickled brain had finally caught up with the situation. He blinked his eyes rapidly in his confusion and was dismayed to feel the tears that he had been holding in roll down his cheeks. He clumsily wiped them away, but he knew that Spock had noticed.

Another uncomfortable, frozen minute passed until the two men both opened their mouths to break the silence.

"Doctor-"

"What th' hell're you doin' here?" McCoy slurred over Spock's soft words.

Another pause. McCoy glared.

"I merely thought to make a… 'social visit,'" Spock began tentatively. "If my timing has been inconvenient," he said more hurriedly, "I can depart."

Spock had turned to leave, but stopped by the icy note in McCoy's voice as he repeated Spock's words.

"A 'social visit," McCoy said with a scornful scowl. "I wasn't aware that Vulcans _did_ social. 'Sides," McCoy said bitterly, "I woulda' thought you'd be with the _Captain_."

Spock turned around slowly to face McCoy and studied him as he would a vegetation sample from an away mission. There was some emotion present in McCoy's manner, but he could not quite fathom it. Although he had a human mother, Spock still had trouble identifying subtle and complex emotions and interpreting emotional responses, but Spock believed that he had seen this particular emotion once before. He believed he had seen some variant of it on Nyota after their relationship began to dissolve.

"Why would I be with the Captain? Alpha shift ended 1.16 hours ago."

McCoy made an undignified snorting noise and downed another drink. "Don't tell me that a smart hobgoblin like you hasn't noticed how much time you've been spending together. Jim is always talkin' about you and runnin' off to find you. Between you and the captaincy, he has hardly any time to spend with an ol' country doctor like me."

Muttering to himself, McCoy added in a voice inaudible to anyone not Vulcan, "Too busy to remember what day it is."

"The Captain and I have not been spending an inordinate amount of time together. My time off duty is rarely spent in his company."

"Nonsense. Everyone knows about the famous Spock and Kirk team. Just the two of you taking down Nero and savin' Earth. Kirk and Spock, Spock and Kirk. The most famous friendship this side of th' galaxy." McCoy said this with considerable bitterness.

Spock straightened almost imperceptibly. He too had heard the rumors and propaganda about his relationship with Kirk, and it always disturbed him. Everyone, even a version of himself, seemed so eager to play matchmaker to the Captain and himself. Spock had been fighting to make his own decisions his entire life. He was not about to give in to the irrational interest of others in his personal life.

"The Captain and I have a purely professional relationship. Anything more could lead to emotional compromise in the case of an emergency and would be illogical."

McCoy made another undignified snorting noise and continued as if he had not heard Spock's last words. "I'm surprised you're not with Jim now. He said he was gonna ask you to play chess. The damn infant."

"I rejected his offer."

Another silence.

"So now when he has nothing to do he still doesn' wanna spend time with me. Screw Kirk!" With gusto, McCoy downed another glass of bourbon.

Spock had just begun to open his mouth to confront McCoy on his obvious alcohol abuse when he was interrupted by shouting, "What the hell're ya doin' here anyway?"

Silence reigned for exactly 8.64 seconds then…

"Although I do not wish to form a relationship with the Captain that could jeopardize missions, it is highly unlikely that any socialization between the science officer and CMO could hinder the success of any given mission. In fact, it is very likely that the medical and science departments will be asked to work together closely in the future for research purposes. Any camaraderie between the two of us could only facilitate any such interdepartmental interaction. Since our on duty interactions have been somewhat… strained, I believed it would be logical for me to attempt to cultivate a better relationship with you while off duty. In addition, I have noticed a slight change in your behavior over the past week. You have seemed to be exhibiting at times either agitated or melancholy behavior. Your current actions seem to lend further credibility to my hypothesis that something is amiss. Is there something bothering you?"

McCoy let out a long, agonized groan. Out of all of his 'friends' and coworkers who could have noticed that something was wrong, out of everyone he knew who could have reached out to assuage his anguish, it was Spock! The emotionless Vulcan who was stealing his best friend. McCoy could not take it. He felt like the universe's biggest joke. Despite his complete lack of sobriety, McCoy deftly poured himself a full glass of bourbon and downed it in a heartbeat.

While waiting for an answer, Spock finally had had time to gather enough of his equanimity to confront McCoy on his drinking.

"Doctor, as a physician, you must know the detrimental effects that alcohol has on the human body. It is not illogical for you to continue drinking at this rate. It could lead to medical complications and, if it interferes with your duty shift tomorrow, could go on your record."

McCoy felt burning, seething anger in the pit of his stomach. More than he had even felt for Spock before. It was one thing for Spock to steal Jim away, it was another thing for Spock to insult McCoy's medical knowledge. Even after the divorce, when he felt the entire world had shown him its back, McCoy had still had his identity as a healer and the title of 'doctor.'

In anger, McCoy surged to his feet and wagged his finger at Spock while screaming, "Now, wait just a minute you damned hob-goblin! What right do you think you have to-!..to…."

The alcohol had finally caught up to McCoy after his sudden movement. He swayed on his feet for a moment and was caught before he could fall to the floor by a rapid Spock. In a drunken stupor, McCoy lay in his arms.

Spock just stood there for a few seconds with McCoy in his arms unsure of what to do. Logic dictated that he take the doctor to sickbay for treatment, but Spock believed, based on McCoy's reaction to his last statement, that the doctor would resent Spock bringing him to sickbay and he did not want the CMO to be embarrassed in front of those who worked for him. If only humans were not so illogical.

McCoy moved in Spock's arms and muttered something unintelligible under his breath. Spock gasped. For a split second, McCoy's movement had caused their skin to touch. Caught off guard, the emotional transference was unavoidable.

The emotions that suddenly filled him almost caused Spock to fall as well. As all Vulcans, Spock kept a tight rein on his emotions and, therefore, knew little about them or how intense they could be, but he was familiar with these emotions. After the destruction of Vulcan, he too had felt anger, guilt, sadness, and… heartbreak?

Spock took a second to clear his mind and reclaim inner peace. The destruction of Vulcan had been 9.73 weeks ago. Although he had to admit to himself that at some level he still was grieving over his losses, he also knew that he had begun to move on. It was not acceptable for him to allow emotionalism. Especially when it could affect his work. McCoy's strong emotions had brought him back to his own time of grieving.

Spock saw McCoy's medical bag and some other medical equipment placed haphazardly on McCoy's desk. It seemed that the doctor had brought to his room everything needed to cure the effects of inebriation. He had been prepared to be drunk. Spock quirked an eyebrow. Apparently, McCoy had wanted to keep his condition a secret.

After a moment's reflection, Spock decided to allow the doctor this secret. He deposited McCoy on the bed efficiently and then retrieved the medical supplies from the table. In just a few minutes, Spock had injected McCoy with the medicine needed to detox him and have him ready for duty the next morning. Although he was not a medical doctor, Spock was a biologist and very familiar with human biology. He was certain that McCoy would not put him on report for malpractice when Spock could just as easily report him for being drunk. Spock used one final hypo on the doctor to ensure that he would receive a good night's rest, then headed towards the door.

Just as the door began to slide open, he heard McCoy murmur something again in his sleep. Spock cocked his head to facilitate his listening.

After a moment, the doctor murmured the word one more time.

"Joanna…"

Then Spock heard a miserable whimper.

Realizing that he was trespassing upon McCoy's privacy, Spock hurriedly left the room and headed to his own quarters. He needed to meditate.

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So…why do you think Spock is visiting McCoy? Is there something more at work other than a desire to avoid the captain and increase interdepartmental efficiency?

Sorry McCoy seems so mean in this chapter, but he is drunk, miserable, and angry with Spock.

Someone commenting on my work said that the interactions between the characters seemed natural. I would like to know if anyone else agrees. As always, Spock's actions are shrouded in mystery, but more will be revealed later of course.

Thanks for reading. Please review!


	4. Chapter 4

**Star Trek and its characters does not belong to me.**

McCoy was faintly surprised to find himself without a hangover and in his bed when he woke up the next morning. After looking at the empty hypospray cartridges, he assumed that he had at some point during the last night gotten his act enough together to treat and put himself to bed.

McCoy efficiently got himself ready for work and took extra care when brushing and showering to get the smell of alcohol off of him. He had gotten very good at hiding his alcoholism from his friends and crewmates. He very well knew that he could lose his job as CMO if his addiction was discovered. And then where would he be? Jocelyn would never let him see Joanna if he became a deadbeat.

Joanna.

He pushed the thought of her out of his mind. He had indulged his grief and now it was time to get back to work, to trudge on as he always did no matter how he was feeling. That was why he drank. It was the only way he could express his grief and give it a somewhat healthy release. He would not be able to function without the occasional binge. He felt no guilt. He had always made certain to never allow it to effect his work as a doctor. His patients always came first. He always came last.

The doctor gave himself one last look in the mirror and made certain that every hair was in place before walking with a straight back towards the door. It was time to take a lesson from Spock. Sometimes emotions needed to be suppressed.

When he was roughly half-way to sickbay, he nearly tripped as someone brushed past him rapidly. After grabbing the wall to regain his balance, McCoy looked up to see the broad back of the Captain striding purposely towards the turbolift.

That was odd, the doctor thought, Jim didn't even say 'hello.'

McCoy began walking faster to catch up and called out, "Hey, Jim! Hold up. I need to ride the turbolift to sickbay."

For a moment, it seemed like Kirk was going to ignore McCoy and leave him to catch the next turbolift, however, just as the doors were beginning to close, Kirk stuck out his hand and held the lift open for McCoy to slide in.

"Thanks, Jim. What's gotten into you this morning? Is there trouble? Did the admiralty call?"

"No, _Doctor_. Everything is fine."

McCoy stared at Kirk in shock. Kirk only called him "Doctor" in an official capacity or when he was angry, but what had he done? Hurt flashed across his features before he regained his control and simply stared straight forward with no expression. That was two times that day that he had taken a leaf from Spock's book. Today was turning into another terrible day.

Silence lay thickly in the lift. McCoy had no desire to break it. He really couldn't handle two emotionally charged days in a row. Now, all he wanted to do was hole up in his sickbay where he actually had some control.

Finally, just as the lift reached the level of sickbay, Jim shut down the turbolift , banged the wall with his fist, and turned angrily to McCoy.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"What?" said McCoy confusedly. Was Kirk asking why he hadn't reminded him about Joanna's birthday?

"I thought you knew, Jim. "

"If I had known, Doctor, don't you think I wouldn't have made plans to play chess with Spock last night?"

"I guess I should have reminded you, but I didn't want to burden you."

"Burden me? My God, Bones! I thought we were friends! Friends don't keep secrets from each other!"

"It wasn't exactly a secret, Jim!" said McCoy as he crossed his arms. He was starting to get mad now. After all, it had been Kirk who hadn't remembered. The man who had always thought he could count on had let him down. "I told you about it three years ago! It's not my fault that you have the memory of a goldfish!"

Silence fell for a moment. To McCoy's surprise, Kirk appeared confused and his anger began to ebb.

"What are you talking about, Bones?"

McCoy glared fiercely at Jim over his crossed arms then said, "No, what are you talking about, Jim?"

"I'm talking about Spock. You know, your secret buddy. The guy you had plans with last night. Plans that you neglected to tell me about even when I told you that I was going to ask him to hang out."

McCoy felt like an icicle had been jabbed through his heart. He even gasped and held his breath for a moment before he managed to say, "What plans? Spock and I didn't have plans."

"Stop, McCoy. You know as well as I do that Vulcans can't lie. I know that you have been with him even though you knew that I had been trying to be friends with him for the past two months."

"Well, apparently Vulcans can lie because I have been doing no such thing! For your information, I spent all of last night alone in my quarters. You hear that? Alone! As in no Spo-!" McCoy paused mid sentence and stared into the space just slightly above Kirk's right soldier. Dim memories began to rapidly flash through his mind. As usual, he couldn't remember much from when he was drunk, but he did remember that Spock had been in his quarters with him.

Kirk snapped in the doctor's face impatiently to bring him back to the present. "What is it? Do you remember something, McCoy? Are you going to claim temporary insanity or amnesia for lying to your captain?"

McCoy shook his head and stared back at Kirk's face. "Actually… yes I am," he said quietly.

"What was that, McCoy? Did you remember something?"

"Spock did come to my quarters."

"What? Speak louder."

"Good GOD man! You heard me. Spock did come to my quarters, alright? I just… forgot."

"Really, McCoy? You forgot? Do you know how stupid that sounds? How could you have- ?"

"Dammit, Jim! I was drunk, alright? I couldn't remember anything because I was damned drunk!"

Silence fell once again.

"You…invited Spock over to…drink?" Kirk asked tentatively.

"No," McCoy said while staring at the floor. "I didn't ask him over at all. I was in my quarters getting shitfaced when Spock came knocking at my door. I don't remember much except talking and then getting up and collapsing. I think I was angry."

"But Spock said—"

"I don't give a damn what Spock said. I told you what happened, and if you are going to believe what that green-blooded elf said and the worst of me, your_ longtime_ friend, then go ahead. I don't need this."

McCoy had been reaching for the controls of the turbolift so that he could escape to his sickbay, but his hand was stopped by Jim's.

"Why were you drinking, Bones?"

"Oh, now you care? Now you're ready to listen? Well, save your breath. I don't need your support."

Kirk's hand continued to prevent McCoy's from escaping. McCoy watched with some bitterness as he saw Kirk work out the reason for McCoy's mood.

Finally, Kirk looked into McCoy's eyes sadly and guiltily. All at once, McCoy felt his anger leave him. Maybe things were going to go back to normal between him and Kirk after all.

"Joanna's birthday."

McCoy mutely nodded then looked away in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, Bones. I should have remembered."

"You were busy. You _are_ the captain of this big ship. It's easy to forget one old, crotchety doctor."

"I should never have forgotten my best friend, Bones."

Bones blinked a few times to clear his eyes then cleared his throat. _I'm still his best friend!_ He thought happily.

"It's okay, Jim. I'm fine," he said with a reassuring smile.

The two men then finally left the turbolift and the captain accompanied the doctor to sickbay. After a minute, they fell into their same easy conversation as always. Things felt like they used to at the academy before Nero destroyed everything.

Kirk even continued the conversation into sickbay. When he followed McCoy into his office, however, the illusion was ruined. Kirk shut the door, and, as McCoy looked up in surprise from the pad he was reading, Kirk told the doctor what must have been on his mind all along.

"Why was Spock visiting you in your quarters?"

McCoy remained silent for a moment then, with a heartfelt, resigned sigh, he looked Kirk in the eyes sadly and said, "I don't know, Jim. I forgot he had even been there, remember?"

"You mean to tell me that he just stopped by?" Kirk asked skeptically.

Now McCoy was angry again. "In fact I _do_ mean that! I didn't know the goblin was stopping by. If I had, don't you think I would've made an attempt to be sober? Stop acting like I'm trying to steal him from you or something!"

"Can you blame me for being frustrated, Bones? I've been trying to get him to hang out with me for weeks, and now he is randomly stopping by to see you?"

_Nice choice of words Kirk_, McCoy thought, _Am I not good enough for Spock either now?_

"So? We're both in the science field. Maybe he just wanted to share some new medical information with me."

"Hmmm. Maybe, but now that I think of it, he does talk to you a lot. He has longer conversations with you than I've seen him have with anyone else."

"They're arguments, Jim, not conversations."

"Still, I think he likes you. Do you think you could-?'" Jim trailed off.

"What?"

"Well… I think that he would hang out with you if you asked. If you invited Spock along, and I was there too, maybe I could finally get to know him and we could be the friends that Spock Prime said we would be."

McCoy felt that cold, stabbing sensation again. His breathing hitched with the pain imperceptively. As always, he disguised his hurt with his crotchety persona. "Dammit, Jim! I'm a doctor not your wingman! Are you seriously asking me to hook you up with Spock?"

"Please, Bones. I've been trying so hard, but nothing seems to work. I just want to be friends with the man. It's our destiny."

This comment only wedged the knife deeper into McCoy's heart and he responded with a definite, "No."

"But—"

"Go tell it to your captain's log, Jim!" McCoy began walking away, but just before he passed through his office door, he turned around and sighed. Who was he to stop Kirk and Spock's destined friendship? Destiny screwing him over did not give him a right to keep Kirk from his own glorious future, even if this future was supposed to be without McCoy.

"Fine, Jim, I'll do it. I'll find some way to get you two bastards together."

"Thanks, Bones!" And with this exclamation, a smile, and a clap on the back, Kirk brushed past McCoy and out the door.

McCoy stared after him for a moment then let his right hand wander up and grasp the left side of his chest as if it were in pain, then he walked into the main room of sick bay to holler at the good-natured Nurse Chapel. The bimonthly physicals started that day, and he was ready to lose himself in his work.

**What do you think? There should be more action soon. Relationship conversations are fun, but these guys need to get off the ship! I hope I'm not making Kirk sound terrible, I'm a fan of all three of these guys. Kirk just is being a little single-minded. Anyway, any suggestions or comments?**


	5. Chapter 5

I put up my first poll! I would be interested in your responses. It will help me write.

I still do not own Star Trek.

* * *

Spock walked towards sickbay with some trepidation. It had been 68.458 hours since he had walked into McCoy's quarters to find him drunk and, although he was curious as to whether the doctor was now feeling better, he was aware that they had both made statements to be embarrassed about.

Spock was still unable to believe that he had so openly offered his companionship to the doctor. Why had he done that? Vulcans did not readily make friends. Deep down, however, he knew the answer and still desired to get to know McCoy.

In addition, he was experiencing uncertainty as to how the doctor would behave towards him now that Spock had seen him drunk. Would he be embarrassed and no longer want to speak with Spock? The past two days seemed to lend credence to this hypothesis. Spock had not seen him this entire time. Then again, crew physicals were occurring. McCoy preferred to get those over with as quickly as possible. When he was busy, the doctor had a habit of abandoning all pretenses of a social life. No, the doctor had not been avoiding Spock. Truth be told, Spock had to acknowledge himself, he had been avoiding the doctor.

How was he supposed to behave towards this man? After he had heard the doctor murmur the name 'Joanna' in his sleep with such obvious torment, Spock's curiosity had forced him to use his first officer security clearance to research McCoy's life and discover that 'Joanna' was the name of his daughter.

This had initially perplexed Spock. McCoy's daughter was alive and well. She was living happily with her mother on Earth, and was attending the best schools and doing very well in them. Her grades in science seemed to indicate that she might someday follow in her father's footsteps. McCoy should have only pleased thoughts when it came to his daughter.

Then, as he was just about to close her file, he noticed the date of her birth. Joanna had turned nine years old that day.

Although birthdays were normally not celebrated on Vulcan, Spock's mother had frequently celebrated the dates of his and his father's births with small gifts and special meals. Spock had learned that humans would celebrate birthdays with those close to them in order to show their love for each other. Eventually, when he was about ten years old, Spock had decided to honor his mother in the same fashion to show his appreciation of her. With his usual precision, Spock had constructed a terran "cake" with complex designs iced upon it. Amanda had deeply enjoyed it, but Sarek had taken Spock aside later that night to explain the illogic of birthdays. Regardless, birthdays had continued to be celebrated in Spock's childhood home, albeit in a more subdued fashion. Spock could well understand the significance of these days and academically appreciate the regret that McCoy must have felt when he could not be with his own child on the anniversary of her birth.

As Spock stepped into sickbay for his scheduled physical, he pushed thoughts of McCoy's personal life from his mind. The doctor would probably want to pretend that the entire night had not happened. Spock was willing to grant this wish.

"Hello, Spock," Nurse Chapel said when she saw him walk through the door, "Dr. McCoy is ready for you in examination room B."

He nodded and headed towards the back room. He was unaware that the nurse's gaze followed him as he went.

* * *

McCoy was fiddling with the controls by the biobed while muttering about hours of recalibration for damned Vulcan biology when Spock entered.

"Are you prepared for my examination, Doctor McCoy?"

McCoy jumped in surprise. The damn Vulcan could always be so quiet. He quickly recollected himself and said gruffly, "Hold your horses, Spock. Just one more calibration and… there. Hop on."

With some effort, Spock forced himself to ignore the doctor's use of colloquialisms and obligingly sat on the biobed and stared expectantly at McCoy. The doctor appeared to be behaving as usual although slightly nervous. Which, Spock considered, was probably only natural since he had seen the doctor in such a vulnerable position. Nevertheless, Spock resolved to maintain his act of pretending that nothing odd had occurred between them.

"So, Spock, how have you been feeling?"

"Adequate, doctor."

"Have you been taking your vitamin pills?"

"Yes."

"You were having sleep problems, did these problems persist?"

"No."

_Damn, this was awkward_ McCoy thought. The Vulcan wasn't saying anything, but he could sense how he was carefully watching him. The doctor still couldn't remember much of that drunken night, but he could only imagine what the prim, straight-laced Vulcan thought of him now. _At least, _McCoy hoped, _he may be so disgusted that he won't want to accept the offer to hang out with me or Jim._

"Well, Spock," McCoy began as he scanned the first officer, "You seem to be in perfect health other than some evidence of strain to your wrists and fingers from all your science work. A few hyposprays and another appointment for treatment in a week should clear it up. If your condition doesn't improve or worsens, we'll talk about stronger treatment. I know hands are important to you Vulcans."

"Thank you, doctor."

"I'm just doing my job, aren't I? After I'm finished with you and receive the results from the crew's blood tests, I'll be free to relax by myself in my quarters with a glass of bourbon."

Spock and McCoy both froze as the tension in the air became palpable. McCoy had to refrain from hitting himself.

Spock had wanted to preserve McCoy's dignity by ignoring the… incident of a few nights before, but if McCoy was an alcoholic he should, as the ship's first officer, protest. Fortunately, he was saved from having to broach the subject by McCoy.

"Dammit, Spock. I can't ignore the elephant in the room any longer."

Spock scanned the room with a furrowed brow, now convinced that the alcohol was beginning to affect the doctor's brain, and McCoy rolled his eyes.

"It's an expression, you pointy-eared Vulcan! An expression!" McCoy calmed himself, "Look, I'm not an alcoholic. I drink a glass every once in a while to unwind after a stressful day, and every day you're my patient is stressful!"

"I understand the need to calm one self, Doctor. Vulcans do so through meditation. It has the added benefit of preventing emotional outbursts. Perhaps you would care to learn the practice?"

McCoy scowled. Even without emotional inflection, McCoy could always tell when Spock was insulting him.

"As to the incident of two nights previously, which I am beginning to expect is the "elephant" you mentioned, although I did find your actions to be illogical and inadvisable—"

"Now just you wait a—"

"Although I found your actions illogical and unprofessional, I have, through my association with humans, learned that such behavior is typical in times of severe emotional upheaval. Will you tell me what was troubling you?"

Of course, Spock already knew why the doctor had been upset, but he believed it would be what Nyota called "tactful" to get McCoy to volunteer the information.

McCoy was stunned. Spock wanted to hear _his_ problems? But, why? Was he going to put him on report? McCoy's face began to turn red as his temper reemerged, but then he remembered another piece of that drunken night. He remembered Spock saying something about wanting to build a better working relationship between the two of them to improve interdepartmental cooperation. He also remembered something about Spock noticing his erratic behavior over the past couple of weeks and coming to his quarters to investigate it. Did Spock actually care? Was Kirk actually right about Spock liking him?

McCoy suddenly became aware of the pause that had stretched between them and noted the patiently expectant expression on Spock's face. He cleared his throat. "Thanks, erm, for asking… Spock, but I would rather keep the matter private. It won't happen again." _At least, not until I miss Joanna's Christmas_ McCoy reflected cynically.

However, Spock seemed reasonably satisfied with Leonard's answer, but, just as McCoy had turned to put away his medical tools, Spock began to speak.

"As you know, my father is an ambassador. Because of this, my father and mother would occasionally be forced to leave me for more dangerous diplomatic missions. When we are children, Vulcans do not have complete control over their emotions, and great distances can cause the familial bond between the parents and child to fade. This often caused me to experience extreme isolation."

McCoy was rooted in place. Shocked. Spock knew about Joanna somehow, and now he was trying to… reassure him?

"However," Spock continued, "I never suffered greatly from it because I knew that they would return. My mother's constant correspondence reassured me that she wished to be with me, and her support of everything I did and her words revealed to me her love."

"How about your dad?" McCoy asked hoarsely.

"Before he left, he would explain to me why he had to leave in detail. He would tell me how his work would benefit others. He would say that his duty to serve the "needs of the many" outweighed his discomfort at leaving me and our home."

"Didn't you ever resent being second to his job?"

"Even at a young age, Vulcan children do not resent. I understood his reasons and derived a certain amount of satisfaction from the important work my father and mother did."

After another pause, McCoy shook himself and got back to business. He was supposed to be giving Spock a physical, not receiving therapy from a Vulcan who knew far too much!

"Ahem. Nurse Chapel will finish your physical with blood, cardiac, reflexes, and respiratory tests."

"Thank you, Doctor." As Spock turned to leave, he calculated the probability of whether or not his private revelation would help the doctor. From his experiences, the doctor was punishing himself for no reason. Despite McCoy's reassurances, Spock had surmised from the doctor's tolerance, his quick recuperation by the next morning, the amount of alcohol in his quarters, and his preparedness to treat his intoxication that McCoy was, in fact, a secret alcoholic. He made a note to himself to watch the doctor more carefully in case he ever seemed to be on the cusp of another bourbon binge.

But before Spock had exited the room, McCoy called out unsurely.

"Uh, Spock? We're all heading down to Tarnax III in a few days. I'll be leading a team to study the local fauna for herbal remedies and investigating the medical practices of the native people. Jim will be down there negotiating further trade and diplomatic relations between the Tarnaxian people and the Federation. I believe you said something a couple nights back about us smoothing out our relationship to improve interdepartmental cooperation, and I know that us medics don't know as much about field research as you science department people do. Would you care to join the away team?"

_I did it, _thought McCoy, _I did what Jim asked me. Now he can stop badgering me._

Spock looked at him for a moment while McCoy, without noticing that he was doing so, held his breath. With a slight eyebrow raise, Spock nodded.

McCoy released his breath and was surprised to find that he was relieved. What? Was he afraid of the hobgoblin rejecting him? His thoughts were interrupted by Spock.

"I find that proposition amendable, Doctor. However, I must ask in return that we meet before we arrive to talk over the particulars of the mission. Do you play chess doctor?"

"I've played once or twice."

"Indeed. Perhaps we could play a few games as we discuss the mission details?"

_Damn. I don't want to hang out with the goblin! This will just get Jim mad at me again and he'll spend even less time with me._

With that thought, McCoy's anger at Jim's continued neglect rose. Who was Jim to decide who he should or should not hang out with? Any say he had over that ended when he started ditching him for the Vulcan. Now, the shoe was on the other foot. Anyway, he could hardly complain since he was doing this to arrange their "date" on Tarnax III.

"Okay, Spock," McCoy said with a smile. "Comm me later with the time and place.

With that, Spock left to finish his physical, and McCoy finished some late paperwork.

* * *

Two hours later, a cheery Nurse Chapel handed McCoy the results of the blood tests before heading to her quarters for the night.

McCoy slumped into one of sickbay's uncomfortable chairs and began to scan the list for any important illnesses. He would leave it to M'Benga to hand the anemia and STD patients.

Nothing caught his eyes until halfway through the reports when he saw something that nearly made his heart stop. Hastily, he made his way to the freezer where the samples were kept and prepared the blood sample for a retest.

He paced back and forth through the empty sickbay for the next half hour as he waited for the results to come in.

How was this possible? The statistical improbability of it was… incalculable! To have the initial genetic condition was rare enough, but was always treated early and not a problem, but then getting the virus? That was unlikely. However, even the virus wasn't fatal unless it was activated, which rarely happened and could be prevented with prior treatment. How the universe could hate anyone so much as to give them the genetic condition and an activated virus was a mystery to McCoy.

But the mystery became clear when McCoy got the blood test back with the same results. They showed that McCoy had contracted the fatal disease xenopolycythemia.

With a crazed sob, McCoy grabbed a syringe and stabbed it into his arm. He watched as his blood filled the vile while trying to come up with some reason why the test results were wrong or inconclusive.

This couldn't be happening? What had he done to deserve this?

He had always told everyone that space was full of death and disease. He had been mocked for this cynicism, but he could not garner any satisfaction from finally and definitively proving his words.

Polycythemia was a human genetic disease that a small part of the population was born with. McCoy was one of them. This disease used to be fatal, but science had created a cure, and McCoy, for the most part, forgot that he had the genetic flaw. However, he was now forced to remember due to the xenopolycythemia virus. The Andorian measles, in response to human biology, would sometimes mutate into a version that could cause xenopolycythemia. In most humans, the virus would only cause the symptoms of the Andorian measles, but the incredible virus could also enter a lysogenic stage and incorporate itself into the DNA of a human who was a carrier for the polycythemia gene. This unfortunate human, a victim of statistical improbability, now had xenopolycythemia. An illness that became fatal as soon as the coded xenopolycythemia DNA began producing proteins.

Victims had, at most, a year to live. They would die because of excessive proliferation of red blood cells.

The results of the third test were the same as the first two, and McCoy slammed his fists against the wall and cussed out the universe.

Finally, his anger bled out of him, and, with a sigh, he sank into his chair in the dimly lit sickbay in a stupor. He let the blinking lights lure him into a state of relaxation and oblivion.

* * *

Before any of you review, I want to apologize for my, perhaps, overly detailed explanation of the disease xenopolycythemia. Most of you probably did not need or want an explanation. I love science, and I just couldn't help myself. So, what do you think? The action is thickening for sure! All three of these guys have serious problems! I'm trying to introduce something unexpected in each chapter. Am I keeping you on your toes?

What? An away mission? What? Some semblance of a plot?

Xenopolycythemia is an illness that McCoy caught in TOS. They never explained the science behind it, so I attempted to provide an explanation with what little I know which is that it is lethal, not contagious, rare, and McCoy only found out he had it after his most recent physical. Don't kill me fellow TOS trekkers!


	6. Chapter 6

Hey! As I am sure many of you have noticed, I have not updated for quite a while. I am sorry; I know how frustrating it is to read to retain focus on a story that updates so irregularly. In this vein, I would like to thank all of you who still took the time to read this new chapter. There is a new one on the way soon! I promise! I won't waste your time with my excuses; I'll just give you my heartfelt gratitude.

I would like to specially thank all of my reviewers and alerters. There are so many fanfictions out there, and it really makes me feel like I am writing something worthwhile when I know other people are enjoying it. Your encouragement and even your critiques push me to try harder and empowers me to take risks in my plotline that I think you will all enjoy.

Thanks Again!

TheSecretPseudonym

* * *

McCoy stepped out of the turbolift and began to walk down the hall to Spock's quarters quickly and with some trepidation. Today was his big "chess date" with Spock and he was already ten minutes late.

He groaned and grabbed the bridge of his nose. The damn Vulcan was going to be insufferable! Why had he even agreed to do this anyway? What was he thinking? An evening spent playing a logic game with a damn computer? And all for Kirk? What was he, the love doctor? He had a year to live he had much better things to do than wasting his time with an antisocial alien in order to help his friend abandon him. As these thoughts churned through his head, McCoy walked faster in anger and began to mutter to himself.

"I'm dying dammit! I have better things to do than play nice with a Vulcan to help my best friend abandon me. Am I a masochist? I could be in my quarters right now. I could be…" McCoy's steps slowed down as he trailed off and realized that he in fact did not have anything better to do with his remaining time than try to beat a Vulcan at a game of logic. Nothing to do other than hang out with his trusty bottle of bourbon. And that was just sad. No, it was more than sad, it was pathetic. Besides, if Spock came looking for him and found him drunk again, he was sure the interfering first officer would report him to the captain. He was also certain that this would lead to said captain asking questions, questions that he really did not want to answer.

For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine Kirk's reaction if he learned that McCoy was going to die. He would be so sorry. He would realize how much he had neglected and used his supposed "best friend." He would start finding time in his busy schedule of captaining and chasing after Spock to talk with him again, commiserate with him again, and, most importantly, care about him again. Heck, he would probably forget all about Spock. McCoy would have his friend back.

McCoy almost smiled at this possible reality, but frowned as he reminded himself that this would not be what would happen at all. Sure, Kirk would pay attention to him again, but he would spend all his time talking about the disease and reminding McCoy about his imminent demise. He would constantly be trying to come up with new approaches to fighting the disease and trying to get McCoy to spend all his remaining time on finding a cure that was unattainable. The kid really didn't believe in no win scenarios, but McCoy did. His life had taught him and continued to teach him about loss and failure. A month did not go by without McCoy having at least one patient die under his hands while he worked frantically to save them. Sometimes there was just no cure. After reading up on all studies done on xenopolycthemia, McCoy was inclined to believe that his illness was another one of those times. He wanted to enjoy as best he could what remained of his life, and this plan did not include spending all his waking hours looking for a nonexistent cure and catching all of his friends looking at him in pity. Once the illness began affecting his work, he would inform the captain.

So, with a shake of his head, McCoy shoved all these maudlin thoughts to the back of his head, and prepared to be his usual scurrilous self as he knocked on the Vulcan's door.

* * *

Over steeped fingers, Spock studied the doctor as he contemplated his next move. It was a mere 47.8 minutes since McCoy had first rang for entry to the commander's quarters and already, after greeting the doctor and preparing tea, Spock had beaten McCoy at two games of chess and was well on his way to winning the third.

The first game had taken the longest, a total of 24.79 minutes, and had been one of the more irksome matches that he had ever played. Carefully the Federation's finest science officer had laid trap after trap to capture McCoy's pieces and failed. Admittedly, the initial traps had been obvious and set up to capture the doctor's more unessential pieces, such as pawns and the horses that McCoy obviously didn't know how to use. Knowing how illogical the doctor could be his own prodigious skills at chess, Spock had wanted to "take it easy" on McCoy and get a feel for the doctor's skill level. It would be rude to just beat the doctor over and over when his entire purpose for inviting him over had been to lessen the antagonism between the two of them and establish a better personal relationship. However, McCoy had not fallen for a single one of Spock's offensive strategies. Vainly, Spock had tried increasingly complex chess strategies to capture McCoy's pieces. Each attempt ended in defeat, and Spock was filled with amazement for this man who had the perspicacity to anticipate each of his strategies and thwart them.

Finally, after 16.84 minutes of his offensive strategy, Spock settled on a new approach. For several turns, Spock made passive moves that did not work towards any game winning strategy and observed McCoy's style of playing. Despite his opponent's pacifism, McCoy did not take advantage and set about reorganizing the positions of his pieces. On observing their placement, Spock finally understood McCoy's strategy and, thereby, the way to defeat him.

Most players, given the opportunity, would have arranged their pieces in a complex trap and, using their own insight or logic, guessed the moves of their opponent and the best way to utilize their own pieces so that they could trap the enemy king or, at least, capture the opposing pieces. McCoy was not like most players or, for that matter, any other player Spock had seen. McCoy did not offer up his pawns as bait or send them out alone to ruin the carefully thought up plans of his opponent, he guarded the pawns as zealously as he guarded his king. He used his more powerful pieces, such as the queen, not as a weapon but as a protector for his weaker players.

With a look of concentration, McCoy played to win but in a way not described in any rule book or strategy text that Spock had ever read. To McCoy, winning was coming out with everyone alive. McCoy was a healer through and through. Spock raised an eyebrow. Knowing the doctor, he really should have figured it out much sooner.

In the next 3.85 minutes, Spock defeated McCoy with alacrity by using a new approach. Rather than attempting to draw out McCoy's pieces and take them, Spock herded all of the doctor's pieces together and defeated the king by using his own subjects to trap him.

McCoy did not seem very surprised or perturbed by this defeat and agreed to another game. This match did not last nearly as long -only 5.3 minutes. Now that he knew McCoy's playing methods, it was all too simple to herd in his king and then attain a checkmate. Again, McCoy did not seem to mind. In fact, the game seemed to hardly matter to him at all. The doctor seemed preoccupied. This was odd- Spock had never known McCoy to allow his mind to wander before- but attributed it to a lack of interest in the game.

For the third round, Spock endeavored to increase the good doctor's interest. Spock decided to win this game on McCoy's terms. He would succeed in capturing one of McCoy's pieces. Skillfully McCoy had avoided each of Spock's attempts to take his pieces. This did not disturb Spock, however, these attempts were ploys to hide from the clever doctor his true strategy.

In approximately 10.38 minutes, the true trap had been set, and for the first time, McCoy displayed real interest in the game. In fact, McCoy was more than interested, the doctor seemed… frustrated and maybe even angry…. Fascinating. The threat of losing hadn't bothered McCoy before.

Spock watched as the blood rushed to McCoy's skin and the doctor began to mutter as he grew more agitated.

Finally, taking a deep breath, McCoy broke the silence that had reigned since the beginning of the game.

"I give up. What is the solution? How do I get out of this trap you've got me in?"

Spock paused before answering. "As your opponent, Doctor McCoy, it is inadvisable for me to offer you any suggestions that may aid in your success in the case that it may hinder my own."

"Come on, Spock," McCoy pleaded, "It's just a stupid game. It really doesn't matter who wins. Stop being such a damn computer for once in your life and give me a hint."

Spock did not budge. "If the game is in fact 'stupid,' and it 'does not matter who wins,' why do you require my assistance?" he replied icily.

"Dammit!" McCoy barked while running a hand through his hair and rubbing his neck. His foot began to tap the floor nervously as his eyes burned holes through the game board.

Spock was bemused. He did not expect such a strong reaction from the doctor when he gave him this choice. After a few minutes, McCoy's agitation lessened. Resignedly, the doctor looked up from the board and allowed his arm to fall limply to his lap.

"There is no solution is there?"

"There are many solutions, Doctor. As I presume you have worked out, you have two choices in front of you, after this decision, there are countless more decisions to be made which will all be impacted by my own decisions."

"You know what I mean, Spock!" McCoy said with some of his anger temporarily resurfacing. "No matter what I do, my next move will allow you to take either my queen or my pawn!"

"Why does this decision upset you so greatly? Neither piece is essential to winning the game, however, since you must choose, I suggest you sacrifice your pawn. The queen is a far superior piece and will be able to better support your efforts to capture my king."

McCoy looked at him with his mouth slightly open. "That's not a solution."

"Not, perhaps, to your current quandary, but it is a choice that will better your chances of winning the game." Despite his words, however, Spock could see that McCoy felt that he already lost. Spock began to question the logic of his experiment. It was true that it was allowing him to collect long-awaited and intriguing information on the doctor, but he disliked causing McCoy such discomfort.

McCoy studied the board again for another minute then, with a sigh, moved his right castle over a single space.

Spock was actually surprised. He had not expected such a move or, rather, non-move. By moving his castle, McCoy had not protected either his queen or his pawn. The move didn't advance his strategy at all. The doctor was refusing to protect one piece at the expense of the other and was, essentially, allowing Spock to choose his victim.

Raising his eyebrow at McCoy, Spock deftly used his bishop to capture McCoy's queen. In three more moves Spock had achieved checkmate albeit without taking any more of McCoy's pieces. The first officer had hoped that the preservation of McCoy's other players and a quick defeat would appeace the doctor, but McCoy was still sullen. With crossed arms he glared at Spock across from the table. Spock was perplexed and curious. McCoy had taken all his other defeats with a few mutters but gracefully for the most part.

"If it's all the same to you," McCoy said testily, "I think I'm done with chess for tonight."

"You played very well."

"I lost every time, didn't I?"

"Yes, but you were able to avoid most of my attempts to trap your pieces. It took great perception to do so."

"I'm not an idiot, dammit. I did go through medical school. So, you want to get this Tarnax debriefing over with?"

"I am amenable to that suggestion."

"Okay. I assume that you have already read, memorized, and catalogued all the information I sent you about the flora and fauna of Tarnax and its possible medical ramifications in that computer in your head that you call a brain."

"I have, Doctor."

Spock heard the doctor harrumph, and the debriefing continued a little more civilly.

* * *

Okay, I don't know if this is weird, but when I was first starting to write this fanfiction, it started out with the vision in my mind of McCoy and Spock playing chess. McCoy is a very intelligent though illogical man with a heart of gold, and I wondered how he would do against Spock in a game of logic where you are usually required to sacrifice your own team. What do you think?

Most of my writing so far has been driven by dialogue, this chapter has more of the characters' inner thoughts. Is this alright? Should I stick with dialogue to reveal what they are thinking?

Oh, BTW. Action is on the way. I don't want this to be a fic where they are just sitting around on the ship and talking feelings the whole time when there is WORK TO BE DONE!

Please Review! I really want to hear from you, and I will definitely respond with alacrity. I promise!


	7. Chapter 7

"Is this all fine with you?" McCoy asked as he collected his PADDs from the small chess table that he had been sharing with Spock the past two or so hours. He had expected an "Affirmative" or an "Indeed" from the first officer, so he was completely thrown off when he heard, "Actually, Doctor, I do have a problem with one facet of this plan."

McCoy turned to Spock with surprise written on his face. He grimaced as he sat down. Instead of going to his own quarters where he could take a sleeping pill and escape from the churning, repeating thoughts in his head that had been present since he had discovered the news of… his condition, he would have to argue with Spock and probably develop a headache. Why was he doing this again? Oh, yeah, Kirk.

"What's the problem?" McCoy said as he slouched and threw his arm over the back of his chair.

"Overall, the schedule is acceptable, but I feel that I could be better utilized if I were to spend all of my time on the planet with the research party."

McCoy looked up in surprise. Kirk would not like that at all. "Isn't it the first officer's duty to go with the captain to all diplomatic affairs?"

"Ordinarily, yes, but I am also the science officer, and since the purpose of this mission is to gather scientific knowledge to be used for medical advances, I believe my efforts could be better employed in assisting you in ascertaining the benefits of the local wildlife and vegetation."

McCoy, in spite of himself and his troubles, was beginning to feel amused. The hobgoblin would really do anything to avoid spending some one on one time with the captain. There was a trace of a wry smile on his lips, Spock may be acting like he was being logical, but it was all a front to satisfy his own illogical desire to avoid the annoying captain. McCoy had up until now only considered how much Kirk's abandonment of him for the Vulcan had hurt, it may have been immature, but he was pleased to see that Spock was equally displeased with the situation. Perhaps it was his own depression making him callous to Spock's predicament (although figured it probably had much more to do with the pleasure he took in annoying the green-blooded elf), but McCoy resolved to turn Spock's favorite weapon of logic against him.

McCoy acted like he was considering his words then, "I see what you're saying, Spock, but it is possible that your absence at negotiations may offend the Tarnaxians, this could prevent us from being able to do any research on the planet. In addition, as the more experienced officer and superior negotiator, wouldn't you be invaluable during negotiations? Besides, after your initial guidance, the team should be able to do the monotonous work of collecting samples. You can lead the lab study once the away mission is over."

Spock stared blankly at McCoy while the doctor gave a smug smile. He had run logical circles around the Vulcan.

However, to McCoy's surprise, Spock was not willing to give in yet. "Lieutenant Uhura is a very competent officer and is more familiar with xenocultures and languages then I. Because of my skills in science, I suggest that she accompany the captain and I stay with the research—"

"Enough, Spock!"

"Doctor McCoy?"

"Enough of this logic crap. I can see through all of it. I know that your real problem with this _perfectly logical_ plan is that you don't want to spend time with the captain. Don't deny it; you know it's true, and Vulcans don't lie."

There was a beat of silence where Spock gazed down at his hand then raised his eyes to meet McCoy's.

"I will admit to a certain reluctance to being in the presence of the captain."

McCoy sighed and leaned back further in his chair. His hand traveled to the bridge of his nose as he scrunched his eyes. "You do know, that it was Kirk who insisted that I invite you on this mission so that you and him could get to know each other."

A curtain seemed to fall behind Spock's eyes as he nodded. "Indeed. It is what I surmised."

"Why does he bother you so much, Spock. Jim's a nice enough guy if a bit pigheaded, and he is a genius by human standards. You both work well together too. You remember the Narada incident when you both pulled your heads out of your asses and teamed up? I can see you guys becoming great friends." The last sentence pained McCoy, but as he looked up into Spock's eyes, he could see that his statement had pained the Vulcan even more.

"That does seem to be the consensus," Spock replied primly.

"Then what the hell is the problem?" McCoy asked, slamming his fist on the table with slightly more force necessary than to emphasize his point. He was sick of all this shit. Chasing after Kirk, missing his daughter, and playing matchmaker to two idiots. He was dying, dammit! Shouldn't that absolve him of responsibility to some of these idiocies, but now that he had started, he was determined to get to the bottom of this.

Spock still had not responded to McCoy's angry question, and McCoy was about to wash his hands of the entire thing and leave as he usually did after talking to Spock, in a bad move. Just as he began to move, however, Spock began to speak.

"I am sure that you are aware, either through your close friendship with Kirk," McCoy mentally scoffed "or by reading the mission reports from the Narada Incident, that the Captain and an Elder version of myself from the same universe as Nero shared a mind meld while stranded on Delta Vega."

There was a pause, and McCoy nodded curtly after realizing Spock was looking at him expectantly. Yes, McCoy knew, or at least thought he knew, all about Jim's "incredible" meeting with Old Spock. It seemed all the kid could talk about was this important destiny he had that Old Spock had revealed to him. One where he and Spock would save countless lives and planets and make the Federation more admirable and strong than it ever had been. One where, McCoy had noted, his name had never been mentioned.

Spock continued, "As an expert in xenobiology, I am equally certain that you are familiar with what a mind meld consists of and the mental and emotional control required to perform one properly especially with a psi-null partner."

McCoy, shaken from his thoughts, nodded again impatiently while wondering what Spock was driving at. What could this possibly have to do with Spock's apparent distaste for the Captain?

"You see, Doctor," Spock explained while his eyes bored into McCoy's to emphasize the seriousness of his words, "the Alternate Spock, in order to expediently reveal to the Captain what had transpired in his universe to cause the alterations in our own, used a mind meld. Unfortunately, the Ambassador was as emotionally distraught from the destruction of his home world as I was and, as the Captain reported, the Ambassador accidentally transferred through the bond his extreme grief as well as, I presume, fragmented memories from his life that involved himself and his universe's Kirk that were not… particularly relevant to the current situation."

McCoy's anger and frustration disappeared as he felt his jaw loosen and his eyebrows raise as the significance of the Vulcan's words began to overcome him.

"These memories and emotions, in addition to the Ambassador repeatedly emphasizing to Kirk afterwards the importance of a friendship between him and I to the galaxy, has led to the Captain assuming a level of familiarity between us that is unfounded and not especially desired."

"Wait… You don't think that emotional contamination from the mind meld could be responsible for how fixated Jim is on becoming friendly with you, do you?" McCoy asked incredulously.

"I believe it may partially be responsible, yes. But I also believe it is due to natural gregarious tendencies on his part and his belief in a greater destiny for the crew."

McCoy mulled this new information over. It was no wonder that Jim had become so fixated if a hobgoblin had been manipulating his emotions. But he had to admit to himself that he wasn't being fair. Old Spock had just been doing what he thought he needed to do to fix the universe and stop Nero. Besides, he had seen Spock and Kirk work together and it had been impressive. Jim had not been what McCoy considered a team player, but this point had been reevaluated when he saw Jim work with Spock. There was complete trust between the both of them that allowed them to work together seamlessly. He had no trouble believing that a great destiny was in store for the both of them and that the Kirk and Spock team would be indomitable in any universe.

"But look what the two of you did together? It's obvious to everyone else that you would both be great with each other, is it so wrong to have a destiny. You should count yourself lucky." The last part of his outburst McCoy couldn't help saying somewhat bitterly. He already knew that no great destiny awaited him with or without Jim. He wondered once again where he had fit in in the original universe, the one that hadn't been fragmented by insane aliens. Would he have been able to be a better father? Would he have been with his little girl? McCoy certainly couldn't imagine the drunken mistake of his entering Starfleet happening twice. The deadly illness he had contracted in space seemed to him now to be an obvious, if slightly heavy handed, indicator from the universe that it really did not want him in the final frontier, on the Enterprise, friends with Jim, or alive at all. McCoy assumed it was nothing personal though, he always knew he was pretty unimportant, just a simple country doctor.

If Spock had picked up on the Doctor's bitterness, he did not know what to make of it and, after raising an eyebrow, continued with the conversation somewhat tersely. "I would, Doctor, feel honored to have a great destiny if I did not find the idea of destiny completely illogical."

McCoy was amazed. "What? How can your logic doubt destiny with all the evidence that _your_," here McCoy pointed his finger accusingly, "double brought from the other universe? Despite everything that's changed and everything that's happened, Kirk still became Captain and you still became his first officer! There are some things that you can't control."

Spock's expression hardened. His hands which had been settled on his knees loosely tightened into fists and his posture became stiff. McCoy realized that he had somehow found something that… angered the stoic first officer. Remembering the violence Kirk had met the last time he had seen the Vulcan angry, McCoy wondered if he should leave. But, fuck it, he was a dead man anyway, and he curious, dammit! What about what he had just said could possibly arouse emotion in the highly controlled man?

"That man is not my double. He has a lifetime of experience that I will never know. So, Doctor, how could he ever know what I will do with my future?" Spock asked sharply.

McCoy chose not to answer.

This seemed to be the right approach because Spock seemed to mentally pull himself together, and, when he next spoke, although his posture was not less tense, his voice was even as usual. "The Ambassador met with me to speak of destiny after the events of the Narada Incident to convince me to stay on board the ship instead of helping create New Vulcan."

"And you listened to him."

"Obviously, but he did more than just advise me to stay on the Enterprise. He tried to direct me and guide me in my life. He too spoke of destiny and how to get the universe back as it 'should be.'"

"And you objected to this advice? You must admit, Spock, that those Romulans did a real number on our universe. Surely anything that can be done to make this universe more like Old Spock's would be beneficial?"

"An interesting analysis Doctor, but based on inadequate data. Yes, the Ambassador was eager to instruct me on how to conduct even my personal business. Not just with the Captain, but with Lieutenant Uhura." McCoy could hear a faint trace of what he had come to realize was anger creep back into Spock's voice

"With Uhura?" McCoy said in surprise, "But you seemed to be doing alright yourself."

"No, Doctor, you misunderstand. Apparently, in the other universe, the Ambassador never had any sort of relationship with the Lieutenant other than professionally, and he warned me to not let it impede me from achieving my 'destiny.'" The last word Spock said seemed to be tainted with a different emotion that McCoy assumed from context was something like disgust. The doctor stored for later consideration the fact that whenever Spock did let an emotion surface from the depths of his cool, logical mind, it was always negative.

"Wait." McCoy began to feel some anger as well. "That isn't why you both broke up, is it?"

"No, the Lieutenant and I faced other… complications. But this shows how inapplicable any advice the Ambassador gives may be in a universe that is probably more different than even he is able to discern. The implication also remains from the advice he gave me regarding Kirk that the universe requires the teamwork of the Captain and I. He implied that the Captain and my work together during the Narada Incident proved the inevitability of our friendship."

McCoy stared at Spock nonplussed. He wasn't really seeing the problem with Old Spock's advice.

Spock's eyes darkened as his brow furrowed, he seemed to be vibrating with what no one would be able to misinterpret as anything but anger. "How can a friendship be inevitable but the existence of a planet not be?" Spock said, his voice deeper and louder than normal. "How can it be possible to achieve a universe that is 'as it should be' with the loss of Vulcan? He spoke of the universe righting itself despite the disturbance. But how could the universe be focused on salvaging a friendship but not on the saving of a planet full of pacifists?"

McCoy finally realized what was bothering Spock. He drew in a breath to offer something to pacify the Vulcan, but nothing came out. There was really nothing to say.

"There is no such thing as destiny, Doctor. There is no unifying objective between this universe and the Ambassador's. It is impossible to make right a universe where so much life has been lost senselessly."

It was as silent in the room as the dark abyss they hurtled through.

* * *

Spock was alone in his room as he prepared the incense he used for his meditations. Tonight his carefully developed control over his emotions had slipped enough to affect his behavior for the first time since his two weeks of grieving after the loss of his mother and his home world. Tonight had also been the first time his emotions had escaped from the box deep within his mind since he had broken up with Nyota.

His hand shook at he lit the incense and the soothing smoke ascended. He would require much more meditation than usual tonight to put his mind back in order.

As he sat upon his meditation rug, he thought back to when he had been helping the doctor pick up the mission tablets in preparation of his departure. In a split second decision, Spock had brushed his index finger against McCoy's wrist for .183 seconds in what could be interpreted, and by the doctor was undoubtedly interpreted, as an accident. His shields down, this brief skin to skin contact allowed Spock to garner a fleeting impression of McCoy's state of mind and recover some thought fragments.

The logic of this decision was unclear, the morality of it even more so, and, somewhat reluctant to begin medicating on the more disturbing emotions he had felt during his conversation with McCoy earlier in the evening, Spock began his mediation on this.

After a few moments' thought, Spock came to the realization that he had been able to discern a certain tension from McCoy throughout the evening. Although a touch telepath like all Vulcans, Spock, like his father, had always been particularly sensitive and able to sense particularly strong emotions without physical contact given time and close quarters.

Still shaken from his emotions from his and the doctor's conversation, Spock had given into his curiosity and his usually impeccably controlled impulsiveness and engaged the shallow meld. After meditating on his motivations further, Spock was also forced to admit to himself that concern for McCoy's well-being also had a hand in the decision.

That out of the way, his mind now turned to what he had discovered in the doctor's mind. There had been hopelessness, regret, anger, and…acceptance. He had also heard the word 'alone' and 'one year.'

Spock meditated for another hour on what he had felt and heard through the bond but made no progress on deciphering the meaning. Finally, after making a resolution to pay closer attention to the doctor, he gave up and moved on to meditating on his own out of control emotions.

* * *

**Hey, guys! Long time, no chapter, ammiright? Anyway, next chapter is going to be the much anticipated, at least by me, away mission. I would appreciate any reviews. I promise to respond. Actually, reading old reviews and the occasional new review I would receive during looooong hiatus is what inspired me to work out the problems I was having with the story and keep going. So what do you guys think of this destiny angle I'm incorporating into the story?**


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